Look for me in the meadows
by wolef
Summary: Oh Mary, you player of fate.


Disclaimer: Don't own. Nor do I own the definition.

**Look for me in the meadows**

* * *

Mary (_with her sad blue eyes_), Mary -- sweet and kind. She's cried far too many tears for him, on that dusty dirt floor. Stood by him far too long, her hand intertwined around his. He's tried pushing her away, shunning her, but her pleads reach his ears anyway.

_Yeshua, Yeshua, why don't you believe?_

(Failsafe:_ n._ equipped with a secondary system that insures the continued operation even if the primary system fails.) There's nothing left to believe, he said.

Her favourtie flower's white, like a lily, except smaller and with seven pointed petals. They grow in the valley just a mile from the town, a entire field drowning out to the sky. She brought them back to put on the supper table each day, with extras for the ladies doing chores outside.

It was nice seeing flowers in that hot, dusty room. It brought in another sense of life; a small, insignificant being that _breathed_. (Maybe a little sign of hope?)

_your dream's the star that has yet to burn out_

--

"Yeshua," she said one night, her voice gentle, like a flutter of wings. (only that morning, she'd been screaming.)

He turned, tilting his head to one side. "What is it, Mary?"

Mary's expression's thoughtful, her eyes watching the children play out in the yard by torchlight. They laugh and giggle, kicking around a piece of hard fruit. One of the younger ones trips and fall, knees bleeding, tears leaking.

"The stars," she said, and smiled. "Sometimes I think I can reach them, stand on my tip-toes, tap them and they'll fall right out of the sky."

A concerned mother rushed out to the fallen child, taking him into her arms.

Yeshua laughed, a chuckle from his lips. "If the rest of humanity were to dream like you, they could fly without building wings."

"If humanity were to dream like me, there'd be no such thing as war."

A gust of wind circled one of the torches, swallowing its flames. Shadows grew darker in an instant. Parents began calling their children inside for supper, the smell of roasting meat and soup drifting into the air. Torches blew out, one by one.

Mary remained sitting, illuminated only by the stars twinkling above.

"Yeshua," she said. "I'm going to save your life."

He wished he could tell her it's impossible, that she'd only end up hurting herself even more. Instead he only gave a sad smile, and remained silent as she stood and walked back into their home.

--

They came fast. With fire and death in their tracks.

Fortunately, they'd been warned beforehand of the betrayal. By then, the village was empty, and there had been one last supper before the sun rose again. A quick meal of blood and flesh.

And an execution.

But his job in this world had yet to be completed.

The table had fallen -- a vase shattered, white petals fluttering to the ground. Pots thrown aside, a shriek, a scream, the roof on fire. Outside, bystanders watched in horror. Soldiers trampled the yard, crushing hand-grown vegetables. The walls collapsed.

_Mary, you player of fate._

They made her coffin out of stone, out of hard, cold stone. They buried her deep underground, beneath the lovely white flowers she loved so much. They buried the other twelve with her, making the tomb holier than it really was.

All she really is, is human.

Yeshua bent down, scooping up a stray flower. He felt lighter, like half him's been ripped apart. It's an odd feeling, because part of him is whole, and part of him is empty.

There's a job he has yet to complete. A strand of hope for him to grasp. He released the flower to the air, watching it float and land on the carvings in the stone.

"I've yet to find myself," he said. His voice echoed in the cave. "A little while longer before I'll return. Sleep in peace until then."

A flutter of a sigh followed his footsteps. The world had yet to fall, he knows, but it will come in the future, the unknown expanse of time before him. It'll be thousands of years before he'll return, searching for an answer to keep the world from fading. Before he'll catch that dream and make it real.

-


End file.
